Fruit Loops
by MajorSamanthaCarter
Summary: a little oneshot regarding something that SHOULD have happened in WOO... one of those 'write your own window of opportunity thingos .


**Hey-o! This is a very silly piece that was written because I really think that Jack should have done something like this in WOO (window of opportunity). Can I just say that this has to be one of the most well-known episodes in the entire 10 series of Stargate? I wonder why…..**

* * *

"…This just happens to be how _I_ feel about it!" Daniel exclaimed. "What do you think?"

Jack groaned inwardly. He'd lost track of how many loops he'd been through. _It must be nearing a hundred_ he thought, annoyed. And he was so sick of being asked the same question _every damn time!_

He looked up. Daniel and Sam were watching him expectantly, waiting for an answer. His eyes went from Daniel, to Sam, to the spoon he was holding, full of fruit loops. They went back to Daniel, then to the fruit loops, then Daniel again. And Jack had an idea.

Holding the cereal-laden spoon, he moved it so that it was pointing at Daniel, then put his finger on the end. As the two watched him, Sam realized what he was doing, and moved her chair away from Daniel, who, Daniel being Daniel, was completely clueless as to what Jack was about to do.

"Jack?" he asked, wondering why he hadn't yet received a reply. He was answered by Jack catapulting the spoonful of cereal at his face.

"Jack!" he spluttered, as milk ran down his face, rendering his glasses useless. "What was that for?!"

Sam struggled not to laugh as a blue fruit loop slowly slid down Daniel's cheek, leaving a long streak of blue dye, and landed in his glass of orange juice. Jack was also struggling not to laugh, until he realized that this was the most fun he'd had so far in the many loops he and Teal'c had had to endure. He cracked up, and soon Sam joined in his merriment.

Daniel swore. Why had Jack done that? All he'd done was ask a simple question! He didn't need to throw _cereal_ at him! For crying out loud, he even had milk in his _ears_! Deciding not to retaliate – that would just make things even worse – Daniel took a large gulp of juice instead…

Jack and Sam watched in breathless amusement as Daniel reached for his glass of OJ. Sam opened her mouth to warn him about the cereal residing in said glass, but was silenced by the look her CO gave her. She looked on as Daniel took a large sip of juice, then coughed, spluttered and choked when he inhaled the fruit loop responsible for the blue stain on his cheek.

Eventually, he spat the cereal onto his plate (which was full of half-eaten pancakes, drenched in Maple Syrup and milk, and covered in soggy fruit loops). Jack snorted.

"Something in your juice, Danny-boy?" he smirked. This was _so_ much fun.

Daniel glared at him. "That's _it!_" he muttered, then grabbed the open container of Maple Syrup and flung the contents at Jack, who looked down at himself in horror.

"Daniel!" he exclaimed in a mock-horror voice. "This is my _best shirt_!" And without further ado, he picked up his bowl of cereal and threw it at Daniel. Unfortunately, Colonel O'Neill was not the best shot, and most of it landed on his 21C (who by now was laughing so much she was crying). In retaliation, she picked up a conveniently-placed bottle of tomato sauce***** and squirted it at Jack, who ducked, causing the projectile to hit instead the sergeant who was sitting behind Jack.

At this point, you could've heard a pin drop, as everyone in the commissary held their breath – naturally, everyone had been watching the war going on at table 9 and laughing their butts off – as they waited for the reaction of the sergeant.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he reached behind and felt the back of his neck. Pulling his sauce-covered fingers away, he inspected them as if y were covered in the faeces of some sort of foul insect. Then, without turning around, the sergeant picked up his cup of coffee, and threw the contents over his shoulder. The hot water landed all over Jack's back, and he yelped in pain. At this, the entire room erupted in laughter, and a lieutenant from table 8 offered to cool him down by throwing a pitcher of ice-cold water at him.

What can I say? Things escalated from there.

***LALALA*PAGE*BREAK!!!!***LALALA*PAGE*BREAK*FAST!!!!*****†**

General Hammond strode down the corridor towards the commissary, looking for his favourite team (SG-1, of course). They were due for a briefing five minutes ago, and yet none of them had turned up, except for a very peeved-looking Teal'c (or at least, he was as peeved as you can look without displaying any facial expressions whatsoever). However, the General was beginning to feel a little apprehensive. SG-1 was _never_ late for their briefings (with the possible exception of Colonel O'Neill, on occasion. General Hammond never asked. He was sure that he didn't want to know.) , and— was that the sound of _screams_ coming from the commissary?

As he got nearer to the bases main dining area, Hammond began to make out the sound of laughter as well. _What was going on?_

When he opened the door, General Hammond was met with the most astounding sight he'd ever seen in his 10+ years of working at the SGC- a sight so fantastic it had to be a dream. The Commissary was covered in food, and the mess appeared to have been created by the 50 or so men - and women - under his command, all of whom appeared to have been reduced to 6-year-olds! The marines had created a barrier of upturned tables to protect themselves from the sticky missiles being launched from around the room. Many of his personnel had formed teams, and were waging war on the other teams, and, at times, their own men. In one corner, it appeared that sergeant Siler was taking bets from the officers (most likely regarding which of the teams would win). The floor and walls were covered in a gross combination of breakfast food and coffee, and even the cooks had taken refuge behind the counter. General Hammond shook his head. He _must_ be dreaming.

As he turned to leave (it was probably better to go back to bed in these kinds of situations), something wet and sticky landed right in the middle of his shiny, bald, head. Turning around, the General felt the soggy pancake slide down his back and fall to the ground. Everyone in the commissary held their breath as they anticipated his furious reaction. But nothing happened. The general simply shook his head, and kept walking, and muttered, as he left,

"This is one weird dream…"

*****I'm sorry, but I REFUSE to use the word 'ketchup' in any of my fics. Where I come from, it's tomato sauce, and that's the way it's going to stay!

†Can I just say, here, before you all accuse me of sanity, that if a page can have a break, then why can't it have breakfast? And do pages break for lunch and dinner as well? And wouldn't it be more appropriate to say break_eat_? Or maybe break_meal_…

**Well, there you have it. I'm insane, and my imagination has a mind of its own! (I call her Esther…) I hope you all liked this by-product of my madness! Please review- Esther needs reviews to survive, and who knows where I'd be without my imagination!**


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